


a startling revelation

by saviourhere



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Ableist Language, Drunkenness, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revelations, Trials, mental health, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviourhere/pseuds/saviourhere
Summary: It wasn't just Ainsley that John befriended
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	a startling revelation

**Author's Note:**

> huge thank you to sunshineandshowers for being my beta for this, if you've not read any of their stories, I highly recommend that you do

The building loomed above her, as intimidating and daunting as it had been the last time she'd had to go there. Jessica had vowed never to set foot in this courthouse again if she could help it, and for twenty years, she had kept that vow. Whilst there had been minor infringements with the law over the years, with some people deciding to sue her for a whole variety of reasons, most of the cases had either been resolved out of court, been dismissed outright, or had been dealt with at another courthouse. Perhaps she was a coward for wanting to avoid this place, but far too many bad memories were associated with the building, all of them as a result of her ex-husband being arrested for being a serial killer. It was bad enough having that bombshell dropped into her lap but having to stand in court whilst their dirty laundry was aired to the public and she was scrutinized and interrogated by lawyers on whether or not she had known had been humiliating, mortifying and traumatic.

She knew it had been selfish to be upset over how she was being treated, especially when her family was still alive, but she was also a victim of her husband's actions. During the trial, Martin's lawyers had tried to twist the narrative, focusing more on what she'd 'allowed' to happen rather than on the people her husband had killed. It still astounded her that her husband had been allowed to get off easy when the family members of his victims still suffered. It was one of the reasons she had been against Malcolm also attending. Unfortunately, her son had stubbornly refused to be left out, stating that he'd needed to see his father get sentenced in order to know he was really gone. As much as she'd understood her son's desires, she still felt like a bad mother for allowing him to attend, and the fact that her husband's lawyers and the press had also called her one had only hammered the nail in further.

She hoped this time would be different. This time, she was going to court because a man had taken her son, tortured him, invaded her home, and tried to kill her and her family. No one would be able to try and pass the blame onto her or make her feel guilty for someone else's actions. It was that assurance and her determination to support her son that allowed Jessica to walk into court with her head held high, no sign on her perfectly made-up face that she was unnerved by being there. It had taken them months to get to this point, having fought against several delays, COVID, and John's lawyers stating he wasn't mentally fit to stand trial, but now finally, John was going to pay for his crimes. He had been imprisoned whilst they waited for his trial, but at least now, it would be official, and if the jury had any sense about them, they'd make sure John never got to see the light of day again.

Her son and daughter were already there, having a conversation in hushed tones which abruptly stopped as soon as she was within earshot. She shot her children questioning looks, but whatever they were talking about, they weren't willing to share with her what it was. It had been happening a lot recently; in fact, now that she thought about it, the two had been very secretive ever since Endicott had ordered his man to stab Gil and fled the country. Jessica couldn't put her finger on it, and perhaps she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something more had happened, something her children didn't want her to know about. If Endicott had hurt them in some way before fleeing, she wished they wouldn't keep it from her. Knowing her children as she did, chances were they were only trying to spare her from feeling guilty. But Jessica didn't need them to protect her, she needed them to be honest and trust her. Their family had spent too many years not communicating with one another properly, and she wanted to put an end to that so they could finally start to heal and put all the horrors of Martin Whitly behind them.

Whatever her feelings were on the matter, the three of them fell into the usual easy conversation they were all used to where nothing was really said and they all danced around the elephant in the room. Jessica inquired how they were both doing with all the latest COVID restrictions, and they in turn shrugged it off and talked about the latest hobbies they had picked up; for Malcolm it was learning Mandarin and for Ainsley it was knitting. Neither of them made sense to Jessica, but at least her children were keeping occupied and she didn't have to worry about them catching the virus. They had sensible heads on their shoulders, and unlike some of the residents of New York, actually wore masks whenever they went out in public. The Whitly family had enough bad luck without adding the risk of a virus to the mix.

After they were called in, Jessica sat in the front row, Malcolm and Ainsley on either side of her, their hands entwined in silent support of one another. They listened as the prosecution listed the criminal charges brought against John, and when it came time to mention his invasion of her home, she felt her heart thump against her chest and her palms start to sweat. She could still remember what it had felt like when the lights had cut off and she'd been chased around her house by a maniac with an axe. It was like something out of a movie; it hadn't felt real, things like that just didn't happen, not in her world. Jessica had been terrified that she was going to die in that moment, that her daughter was going to die and her son would forever be lost, not knowing that the family he was missing was gone. She considered herself very lucky that Malcolm had stopped John; it had been far too close of a call, and even now after so many months, she still had nightmares about the ordeal. Malcolm denied that he also had nightmares about what John had done to him, but Jessica knew her son well enough to know when he was lying.

"You don't have to be here," Jessica whispered to her son, noticing his hand trembling and how tight the grip on her hand had gotten. "Say the word and we will all walk out of here. There's more than enough evidence against him to send him away forever without our testimony."

"I'm fine," Malcolm responded, a fake smile plastering onto his face. "I want to be here, I have to be here."

Jessica sighed. She hadn’t expected a different answer from her overly stubborn and self-destructive son, but it had been worth a try. Every day, she hoped and prayed that her son would stop feeling guilty for what his father had done, that he wouldn't feel like he needed to throw himself into the firing line to make up for his father's sins, but every day, her prayers remained unanswered. She wasn't a religious woman, not anymore. It was hard to believe in a higher power when her husband was a serial killer. Even without that, her life hadn't exactly been easy over the last couple of decades, but a part of her did miss it. Growing up, she had attended church with her family, but after everything that had happened, she'd found the judgmental stares hard to cope with and the pitying ones even harder. Gil was a devout Catholic, and she'd gone to a few mass services with him just to support him; perhaps something more would come from it someday. But for now, she just couldn't. It was hard to believe in everything Christianity claimed to be when John Watkins, a man who claimed to be a man of God, was standing trial for murder. How could John claim to be a devout man when he'd tortured and killed all of those people? How could a supposed just God allow that to happen?

After what felt like hours, it was her turn to give testimony. Malcolm and Ainsley had both given their accounts of what had happened, as had Gil and one of the agents from the FBI. To say she was nervous was an understatement, but just as before, she held her head high as she made her way to the witness stand and pledged to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

"Mrs Whitly-" the lawyer began.

"Ms Whitly, I'm divorced," Jessica interrupted, hiding her disgust elegantly.

"Of course, my apologies. Although-" The lawyer sauntered around the room, one hand in his pocket, trying to look casual despite Jessica knowing he was already thinking about how to twist everything. "It is curious that you've kept Martin Whitly's name given the stance you made about his heinous actions."

Of course, it always came back to this, to her using his name instead of her maiden name. How many times had Jessica heard this before? That her keeping his name meant she condoned his actions or was involved somehow or still loved Martin. She had heard every reason, every accusation, every rumour, theory or insult that was out there; nothing could surprise her any more, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt whenever someone said it. She was never going to escape it. There had been so many times when Jessica had wondered if she'd made the right decision, but the Milton name no longer felt like hers, and her parents had basically disowned her after Martin's arrest, so she didn't feel like she was even allowed to use her maiden name. Perhaps one day, if things went well with Gil, she could take his name, but that was a long way off, and things were still early in their relationship.

"I've done more good using the Whitly name than I ever did when I was Jessica Milton. There's nothing evil about the name. Now, if you're quite done questioning me about my name, perhaps we could get to the actual matter?" Say what you would about Jessica, she knew how to command a room. "I'm not the one on trial here. I came to give my testimony, and if you can't respect that and conduct yourself accordingly, then I will be contacting your boss and having a word with him about your behavior." Jessica might have fallen out of high society, but she still had a lot of pull and influence inside of New York, and she wasn't afraid to use it when a situation called for it.

"There's no need for that," the lawyer replied, looking only slightly unnerved by Jessica's warning. "Can you tell me when you first met my client?"

"When he was chasing me through my home with an axe," she replied tightly.

"Are you sure about that?" The lawyer questioned. "You never met him before? Not even in passing when he worked with your husband?" The lawyer held up a hand. "Sorry, I mean your ex-husband." Clearly he was trying to mock her, but Jessica wasn't going to rise to it; if she let him rattle her, it could put everything at risk. She wasn't going to let him twist everything to get John an easier sentence. There was no question that he was going to be found guilty, there was too much evidence stacked against him for any other verdict to be passed, but it was still possible for him to end up somewhere like Claremont instead of prison, and Jessica would be damned if she let someone else connected to her husband get off easy.

"Yes I'm sure. I think I would re-" Jessica paused, cutting herself off. Now that she looked at John, really looked at him, there was a spark of recognition. He was less scruffy than when she'd last seen him, and he had lost weight since being in prison. It had been dark when he'd tried to kill her and her family. Even when he'd been taken away by the police, she'd never really taken in his appearance, she'd had other things to focus on with both Ainsley and Malcolm suffering injuries, but now that the lawyer had questioned her about it, Jessica found herself wondering: had she met him? He certainly looked familiar and not just because he looked similar to her husband. Was it possible that the two of them had met and she just couldn't remember? "I-" Jessica looked from John to her children, eyes resting on Ainsley. John had befriended her daughter right under her nose; Ainsley had seen him as an imaginary friend or a ghost who kept her company when everyone else was busy. John had wormed his way into both of her children's lives, so was it possible he had done the same to her and she just didn't know it?

"You what?" The lawyer pressed. "Did you know him before the attack on Christmas Eve?"

Jessica pursed her lips, not knowing how to respond. She had spent a long time trying to forget all about Martin, to forget how he had charmed her, how he'd swept her off of her feet, showered her with gifts and adoration, and seemingly worshipped her. She'd tried to forget how her world had shattered like a mirror when Martin's skeletons had been ripped out of the closet and everything had come crashing down around her. Jessica had drunk and self-medicated herself in a desperate bid to forget the horror that her life had become, but despite what she tried to convince Malcolm of, no amount of drugs or alcohol would solve their problems, erase what Martin had done, or make them forget. There were some things that became hazy or she just plain forgot, but most of those memories had come after Martin's arrest, and usually those memories were when she had been too inebriated to even remember anything on the day, let alone years later. Could that be when she'd met John? Was that why she couldn't remember? Evidently John had told his lawyer something, why else would they be asking?

The silence was broken by an eerie sound, one that sent a chill down her spine and filled her with a dread that she couldn't rightfully explain. Turning her attention from Ainsley, she looked back at John, who was now whistling a tune with a cold, cruel and gleeful look in his eyes. Jessica felt a sense of impending doom, but before she or the judge could tell John to stop, Ainsley began to sing along, filling the courtroom with the eerie song that Jessica recognised but couldn't rightfully say how or why that was.

"But the bad little angels all fall down, fall fall down, tumble down, they'll never get to heaven-"

Horrified, Jessica turned back to Ainsley and saw her daughter staring ahead with a faraway look on her face as she sang. Ainsley seemed devoid of all emotion, more like a statue than a human being, and Jessica felt her blood turn to ice. She wasn't sure who was more scared, her or Malcolm, who was now panicking and trying to bring Ainsley back from wherever she'd gone. She just kept singing the song over and over again whilst the courtroom turned into chaos and the judge demanded for order to be restored. What had John done to her daughter? How did she know that song? Jessica wanted to run to her daughter and snap her out of it, but everything started to go out of focus. The judge's voice started to sound far away as Jessica was sucked into her memories as she realised that she'd heard that tune before and in turn, when she had first met John Watkins.

_It was 1998. Jessica held a glass in her hand, though she wasn't even sure what was in it anymore. It had started off as port, but when that had run out, she'd tried some bourbon, and on her last refill, she had just grabbed whatever was closest. The nanny had taken the kids somewhere, she thought that the park had been mentioned, but by now, she really wasn't sure. Jessica trusted the nanny; she knew they'd be safe in her hands, and at the end of the day, that was what mattered. Jessica had needed them out of the house whilst the workmen were there. She loved her children, but she couldn't risk them getting underfoot whilst they were working. Malcolm and Ainsley were too curious for their own good. Despite telling her son “no” countless times, he kept going into Martin’s study in the basement, either because he missed his father or to look for the damned Girl in the Box that he kept insisting was real. Jessica, Gil, and Malcolm's therapist had all told him she didn't exist, but he wouldn't listen; he kept trying to find her and Jessica was scared of what it was going to do to his mental health. Malcolm's mental wellbeing was already suffering, and she was terrified that if he kept searching, he was going to break. Between that and wanting to remove all reminders of her husband, she'd decided to get the whole part boarded away. It was like sweeping something under the rug, only on a far more extreme, permanent, and 'Jessica' level._

_It was a relatively small crew who stomped their way through her basement, but honestly, Jessica preferred it that way. She'd had too much of crowds of people loitering outside of her home, from paparazzi and journalists trying to get some juicy inside scoop, to angry mobs calling her and her family monsters and even a few weird creeps who were hoping to get some sort of souvenir. Jessica had once adored being the center of attention, had loved being in a crowd of people and been quite the social butterfly. Now that she'd been shunned by her peers, thrown away by her friends and completely cut off from high society, Jessica found herself wanting to retreat further into the shadows where she could lick her wounds without being judged for it. She missed going to galas, but after months of having everyone treat her like a leper and talking about her behind her back, she just couldn't do it anymore. She didn't want to be seen by anyone, not when she felt like she was coming apart at the seams._

_As much as it tormented her to watch the builders build a brick wall at the entrance to her husband's 'hobby room,' she didn't feel like she could leave them alone either. What if one of them took something and sold it to the press for extra money? Or took something as a momento because they were one of those weird fans of her husband? She knew she was being paranoid and perhaps the alcohol wasn't helping, but she didn't feel like she could trust anyone coming into her home. She thought Martin had been a good person and look what he had done. Clearly, she wasn't as good a judge of character as she thought she was. A small voice in her head told her she was being unfair, that these workmen were honest men and that at the rate she was paying them, they'd be stupid to betray the trust she'd placed in them, but copious amounts of alcohol made that voice very quiet and hard to hear._

_As she watched her soon to be ex-husband's office disappear brick by brick, she heard one of the builders whistle a tune she hadn’t heard before, though it oddly rang a bell in her head, which didn't make any sense. How could something she'd never heard also be something she recognised? They completely contradicted one another, and try as she might, in her midday drunken stupor, she couldn't put a finger on why it seemed so familiar. "Can you please not whistle." Jessica groaned, already feeling a headache coming on. "Sorry, but I've got an awful headache and the noise is going right through me." Some of the other builders stopped what they were doing and shot her a look, as if they were all silently wondering why she didn't just go upstairs and leave if the noise was that much of a problem. They were probably tired of listening to her complain about one thing or another, but as pathetic as it seemed, Jessica had no one else._

_Suddenly, she burst into tears, the weight of the last few months crashing down on her as she watched the place Martin had committed such atrocities disappear, and she realised that no matter what she did, she'd never escape what he'd done. She could cover it up, distract from it, paint over it with bright colours, but the darkness would always be there. The stain Martin had left on their family would never wash out, there would never be an antidote for his poison, and she was fooling herself if she thought any of this would work. She truly was pathetic. Her children were suffering, countless families had lost loved ones because of her husband, and all she could think about was herself. She was a selfish, pathetic woman who was unworthy of anything good in her life. Her children would be better off living with her parents, far away from this cursed house and the cursed Whitly name._

_"Ma'am, are you alright?" One of the workmen approached her, putting something into his pocket. It was the very one who'd been whistling only a few moments ago and who Jessica had unfairly admonished for no other reason than her own selfishness. She didn't deserve his concern or sympathy, not after the way she'd acted. "Here-" Blinking through the tears, Jessica noticed that the man was offering her his handkerchief. It was such a kind and gentlemanly gesture that it set off her tears all over again, making it even harder for her to regain her composure. "No, wait, I'm sorry," the man apologised, actually apologised, even though he had nothing to be sorry about. "Why don't we get you upstairs, yeah?" Jessica could do nothing more than nod and let herself be led upstairs, away from the pitying looks the others were giving her._

_She was led upstairs, her mind shutting off as she switched to autopilot. What must they all think of her? Why couldn't she just get her act together and move past this? Why was she crying and feeling sorry for herself when her children needed her to be strong? "Here, drink this." Looking up, Jessica saw a glass of water being held out to her, and she silently took it, not sure when the man had gone to get her a glass in the first place. "Look, I'm real sorry if I upset you back there." Jessica took a sip of the water, hoping it would help her compose herself before she humiliated herself even further. "Look, I heard about what went down, an' I just want to say, it's not your fault."_

_"What?" Jessica asked, shocked and surprised that a complete stranger would say something like that to her._

_"I said it's not your fault. Dr Whitly, he wasn't a good guy. He betrayed the people closest to him. He lied, went back on his promises, and now you gotta pick up the pieces of the destruction he left." Jessica wiped her tears away and looked at the workman who crouched before her. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe she was just feeling sentimental, or maybe she'd finally snapped and gone crazy, but he looked eerily like Martin did, only a bit younger and with less of a beard. "I'm a man of God, an' what he did goes against everything I believe. A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will not escape; that's what the Bible says. Martin Whitly was a liar, and he got what was coming to him." There was something about the man that made Jessica weary; there was an anger hidden beneath his words. Had Martin hurt someone he loved? Was that why he was saying all of these things? "But you can't keep going on like this." The man waved a hand in front of her, and if she wasn't so upset and numb from the alcohol, she would have been insulted. "Malcolm and Ainsley need you. They have an angel watching over them, but they still need their mother."_

_For a moment, she wondered how he knew the names of her children, but her mind was becoming fuzzier, and the thought left as quickly as it came. "You're a strong woman, anyone can see that, and I know things are tough right now, but you're gonna come out stronger from this." The man placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but somehow, it felt wrong. "None of us down there blame you, and we don't think you’re a bad person." Jessica smiled, touched by the words. "The Lord has a plan for you and your family." Jessica had enough sense not to scoff at the words. She didn't believe in God anymore, but she knew the man was coming from the right place; he meant well, even if his words didn't feel like he did. "Why don't you go have a rest? We can finish off downstairs, an' when you wake up, it'll be like that room never existed."_

_Jessica nodded numbly and stood up, stumbling slightly as the blood rushed from her head, and if it wasn’t for the workman catching her and holding her up, she probably would have ended up on the floor. "Thank you," she mumbled, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "I probably should go lie down." She was exhausted from the stress and drinking too much. The man was right; she needed to sort herself out, she couldn't go on like this. Starting tomorrow, she was going to make an effort to live in the present and not let the shadows hold onto her anymore._

_"You need a hand?" Jessica nodded, too tired to say anything else. Slowly, she was guided to her bedroom and gently helped into bed. The workman was even kind enough to help take off her shoes, and as she drifted off to sleep, Jessica was comforted by the knowledge that when she woke up, Martin Whitly's office would be no more._

It wasn't till now that Jessica realised she'd never told that workman where her bedroom was. It was only now, as she looked at John Watkins, that she realised he'd known exactly where it was because he had been in her home before. He had been there with Martin whenever she and the children had been out, helping her husband to kill people. He had been there, right under her home, and she'd never even known he was there. John had weaseled his way into her family, and she'd been too wrapped up in her own world to notice it.

John had befriended her daughter, had gone camping with her son, and had been there whilst her husband's office was closed off. He had given her comfort, made her think it wasn't her fault; only now did it dawn on her that John had been talking mostly to himself. According to John, Martin had betrayed him, so of course John would try to associate the betrayal Jessica felt with his own. "Oh god!" She wanted to scream. John had put something in his pocket; it had probably been evidence that linked him to Martin. He'd been there to destroy anything that could incriminate him, and Jessica had sat there and watched him do it. "I feel sick."

Everyone was looking at her now. Ainsley was no longer singing and both she and Malcolm looked at Jessica in confusion. "I did know you before; you came to my house-" She gaped at John. "You- why? What was so important about my family? Why were you so obsessed with us?" She knew it wasn't right for her to address John directly, but she wanted, no needed, answers.

John smiled at her, a Cheshire-like grin that disappeared in the hairs of his beard. "Hello again, Jessica, _so good_ to see you."

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea a week ago, and it stuck with me. John had befriended Ainsley and Malcolm when they were children; and whilst I've seen a lot of fics where Jessica and John meet when John comes over to the house when Martin is around, I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if Jessica met John *after* Martin's arrest.
> 
> Also, just to make it clear; Jessica's thoughts are not my own. We've seen in the show she can have....questionable ideas about mental health, and I didn't want to discount that part of her, even if I don't agree with it.


End file.
